


that's what boyfriends do

by spacenerdsugg



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Fluff, Homophobia, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacenerdsugg/pseuds/spacenerdsugg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your, um, boyfriend dropped this," the little girl says, holding something out in her hand. It's a crumpled piece of paper, their shopping list. Caspar barely notices it. </p>
<p> <em>Boyfriend.</em></p>
<p>She thinks Joe is his boyfriend. </p>
<p>(Everyone does)</p>
<p>Inspired by all the happenings on <a href="http://spacesugg.tumblr.com/post/141399334872/trxyeswild-spacesugg">this post</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure you need that?”

Joe lifts himself up on his toes, peering over Caspar’s shoulder at the bag of marshmallows in his hands. He steps back as Caspar turns around to look at him.

“I’m sure.” Caspar grins at him, then throws the bag into the shopping basket hooked on Joe’s arm. It’s late, the sky darkening outside, cloudy and rainy and cold. The two boys are scouring the sweets aisle at the supermarket that’s just down the road from Caspar’s new apartment. The store is almost empty, brightly lit and gloriously warm. Joe’s cheeks are flushed red; almost overheating in his thick jacket and soft scarf. The tip of Caspar’s nose is pink, and his skin is hot whenever it brushes against Joe’s own. Though, that’s not anything abnormal. Caspar is always warm.

“They weren’t on our list,” Joe points out. He digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, covered in his own messy handwriting; a crudely made shopping list that they wrote together on the way here.

“Add them to the list, then,” Caspar suggests. Joe frowns at him.

“That’s not how the list works.“

Caspar only smiles in response, presses a finger to the crease between Joe’s eyebrows and pushes his head back gently just to annoy him. Joe swats him away.

"Whatever,” Joe huffs. “Get your stupid marshmallows. But you better share them with me when we get home.”

_Home_. Joe is talking about Caspar’s flat. Which, technically, _isn’t_ Joe’s home. But the two of them have never cared much for the technicalities. So, when Caspar’s eyebrows rise in surprise, it is not because Joe considers his flat a home - he already knows that, _he_ considers Joe’s house his home - it is to say, “Oh, you’re going to stay at mine tonight?”

They’ve moved over to the dairy aisle, and Joe studies the rows of milk with a thoughtful gaze.

“Mm,” he says, not taking his eyes away from the various cartons of low-fat milk, “I don’t know if I’ll stay. You’re still having all the problems with your heater, right? The flat is bloody freezing.”

“That’s why I need you,” Caspar says. “To keep me warm.”

Joe snorts, but his amusement is cut short when Caspar tries to wrap him up in a hug, his arms snaking around Joe’s shoulders.

“Sooo waaarmmmm,” Caspar sighs happily.

“Go away,” Joe laughs, placing a hand on Caspar’s chest and pushing him away. “ _Rodney_.”

“You love it,” Caspar teases, pinching Joe’s cheek, which goes even redder at his touch. Joe holds up his free hand quickly, bringing it down on Caspar’s wrist like the swift cut of a knife.

“Watch out,” Joe says, jabbing Caspar in the stomach, then chopping the air in front of him when Caspar moves away. “I know karate.”

He lifts his leg in a small kick, splices the air with his hand, and gives Caspar a warning look. Caspar laughs, loud and clear, his head thrown back.

“Touch me again,” Joe warns, as Caspar tries and fails to suppress his giggles, “and I’ll chop your hand right off. Like…one of them…” he struggles for the words. “You know how they break those planks of wood with just their hands…?” he motions it with his own hand, bringing it down quickly on a imaginary plank of wood in front of him. Caspar nods to show his understanding. “Yeah, well, that’ll be your arm.”

Caspar pretends to look horrified.

“Oh, please, no. You can’t do that.”

“I can do that,” Joe says, pretending to look very serious. “So you better stop touching me. I know I’m irresistible, but just… stop, alright? Or that arm _will_ come off, I promise, I swear to god.”

He gives a short, grave nod, then stalks away, leaving Caspar, who has now been taken over completely with giggles, behind him.

It takes a moment for Caspar to catch his breath, he’s laughing so hard, and just as he begins to follow after Joe, he hears a voice behind him.

“Excuse me.”

It’s a small voice, very soft, female. Caspar turns around to find a small girl standing behind him, her blonde hair pulled up in pigtails, her eyes bright and glistening in the supermarket’s orange light. She smiles shyly.

“Your, um, boyfriend dropped this,” she says, holding something out her hand. It’s a crumpled piece of paper, their shopping list. Caspar barely notices it.

_Boyfriend._

She thinks Joe is his boyfriend.

The thought makes him want to laugh, and it also makes something tighten in his chest, his stomach, his skin burning up in a way that he’s sure has nothing to do with the store’s extreme heating.

He wants to correct her, but she doesn’t look any older than six. She doesn’t know any better. So he smiles at her and takes the shopping list from her hand.

“Thank you,” he says. Then, before he can stop himself, “I’m sure my boyfriend will be very grateful.”

The little girl beams.

“You two are like my brother and _his_ boyfriend” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She seems to have immediately warmed up him.

“Oh?”

She nods.

“They love each other a lot.” A blush creeps into her cheeks, and she tugs on one of her pigtails, her eyes darting down the aisle, to where Joe is. “Your boyfriend is very cute.”

Caspar follows her gaze.

Joe has set the shopping basket down on the ground next him and is squatting down in front of the glass freezer doors, his arms wrapped around his knees, his expression serious as he studies whatever is kept in the very bottom shelf of the freezer. He looks very small, his hair fluffy and falling into his eyes, no matter how many times he tries to push it back.

“I know,” Caspar says fondly. And for a moment, he lets himself think that Joe really is his boyfriend. Lets himself think that he can kiss him whenever he wants, that he could go over there now, press his lips to Joe’s, and be kissed back, the two of them smiling into each other’s mouths. Lets himself think that he can hold his hand, feel the heat of his palm against his own, can curl up next to him in bed, bodies pressed together as they keep each other warm.

“You must love him a lot.” 

Caspar smiles.

“Yeah,” he says, softly. “I do.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay,” Joe says, when Caspar finally joins his side. He’s smiling. “Why were you talking to a random child?" 

Caspar shrugs. 

"She had our shopping list. You dropped it.” He doesn’t say anything about the fact that she thought they were dating. There’s no point. He knows it’s something Joe wouldn’t want to hear. 

“Aw, bless her,” Joe says, taking the list from Caspar’s hand. “I bet she was terrified when she went up to you, you bloody giant." 

"She actually seemed to like me a lot." 

"Well, _I_ was terrified when I first went up to you, you bloody giant,” Joe says.

Caspar laughs. 

“You actually seemed to like me a lot.” 

Joe grins at him, looking mischievous, and lifts his shoulder in a very small shrug that teases _‘maybe’_. Caspar smiles, and fights back the suddenly overwhelming urge to kiss him. 

Which is something he feels he’s getting good at fighting back now, considering he wants to kiss Joe at least ten times a day.

They finish up their shopping, Caspar sees the little girl at one of the registers with her mother and smiles at her. She waves to him happily. Joe makes a bad joke about her being the next Emma Lee, and beams when Caspar actually laughs at it. 

Make that eleven times a day. 

It’s stopped raining outside when they finally leave, but the air is still bitterly cold, a stark contrast to the stifling warmth inside the store, and it bites at their exposed skin. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Joe huffs, as they cross the parking lot. “My hands are already numb." 

Caspar pauses, shifting one of his shopping bags to his left hand and reaching out for Joe’s hand with his right. 

"Your skin is like ice,” Caspar says, holding Joe’s hand in his own. Joe has come to a stop as well, and he gazes at their joined hands, which Caspar holds up between them. 

“They’re always cold,” Joe sighs. “I think I have, like, a condition or something.” His face lights up suddenly. “Or, or maybe I’m like that superhero, you know, the one with the ice superpower." 

"Elsa?" 

Joe crinkles his nose in disgust, pushing Caspar away from him with a laugh. His face is all red from the cold, and Caspar desperately wants to warm up Joe’s lips with his own. 

"You idiot,” Joe says, shaking his head. “I mean, like…Frozone. Remember him? From The Incredibles?” He frowns in thought. “Was he always cold?" 

"I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Caspar replies. 

Joe is silent for a moment, like he’s trying to remember. But then he sighs again, his shoulders sagging. 

“Maybe I _am_ Elsa,” he says miserably. He looks like a small child that has just been told that he won’t be getting presents for his birthday. Caspar pokes his forehead with a laugh, and then begins to sing a very off-key rendition of 'Let It Go’. 

“Shut up,” Joe says. 

Caspar just sings louder. 

“Stop." 

Louder. 

"I swear to god, Caspar. Remember what I said about knowing karate…?”

Caspar stops, abruptly, but it’s because he’s suddenly realized that he’s left his wallet at one of the registers inside the store. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, before quickly hurrying back across the parking lot.

“ _You idiot!_ ” Joe yells after him. And then he crosses his arms across his chest and stands, waiting, in the freezing cold. 

He’s been alone for all of three seconds when someone comes up to him. An old man with incredibly bad posture and an unfriendly, haggard face. Joe looks away quickly, suddenly feeling nervous. Maybe he’s just walking past, maybe he doesn’t want to speak to Joe. 

“Hey,” the man grunts, very rudely. “Excuse me." 

_Fuck._

Joe looks over at him slowly, tries to straighten his back so he stands tall. The man is taller than him anyway, despite his efforts. Joe wishes that he really _did_ know karate. 

"You know that there are other people here,” the man continues gruffly. He has very dark eyes, and they are cold as they study Joe. “Not everyone wants to listen to you and your… _friend_ …prattling about, with your stupid singing and all that." 

Joe stares at the man in shock, though he’s quickly consumed with fiery embarrassment. Cheeks burning red, stomach twisting. He wishes the ground would swallow him whole. He wishes Caspar would come back. 

"I…I’m sorry,” he stammers. Clears his throat. “We’ll be quieter next time, sorry." 

He hopes that’ll be enough for the man to leave, but he stays, looking very unimpressed. Joe glances toward the store. _Caspar, where the hell are you?_

"I know your type,” the man says, eyes narrowing. “You…homosexuals think that you own the place now." 

Joe blinks at him. 

”…what?“ he says weakly. 

"It’s all over the news now, and everywhere you look on TV. They try and push that goddamn… _agenda_ down our throats." 

Joe has no idea what he’s talking about, or how this applies to him and Caspar singing too loudly, but he knows that he wants to punch the man in the face. 

"I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think to say. 

The man just huffs. 

“Yeah, well, just tell your little…” he seems to struggle a lot with the next word, “ _boyfriend_ …to keep his voice down when he’s out in public." 

"What’s this?" 

The question comes from Caspar, who is suddenly standing by Joe’s side. He looks between Joe and the man questionably. 

"Nothing,” Joe says quickly. He doesn’t want to talk to the man any longer. “Did you get your wallet? Let’s go." 

He casts a nervous glance towards the old man, waiting for him to speak. But the man just gives him a dark look before shoving his hands in his pockets and heading towards the store. Caspar watches him leave, looking confused, before following after Joe, who has already started moving. 

"Did he say you had a boyfriend?” Caspar asks, hurrying to keep up. 

“I think he thought _you_ were my boyfriend,” Joe mumbles. He feels angry and embarrassed and a little bit like he wants to cry. Caspar’s mouth hangs open. 

“Wait what? What did he say?" 

"He got angry at me because he said you and I were being too loud. But… I think he was just angry because he was homophobic and he thought we were gay." 

"What the fuck." 

"Yeah,” Joe says bitterly. “I wish I had told him go fuck himself or something but I…I just didn’t know what to say." 

"I’m sorry you had to deal with that, buddy,” Caspar says sympathetically. Joe just shrugs. 

Caspar reaches out gingerly and squeezes his arm reassuringly, gives him a look like _I'm here for you_. Joe looks at him and gives him a very small smile and a look like _I know_.

They insult the old man the whole way home. In the end, they’re laughing about it, joking about Joe’s karate skills and the two of them using their heavy shopping bags to simultaneously hit the man in the face. When they get to Caspar’s flat, they drop their bags on the kitchen floor and collapse on his couch, still breathless from laughter. 

Joe is laying along the length of the couch, his legs draped over Caspar’s lap. Caspar pretends to chop Joe’s calves with his hands, making him laugh. 

“You know,” Caspar says, without thinking, feeling slightly giddy. “That little girl at the store thought you were my boyfriend, too." 

The light mood drops immediately. Joe gazes at Caspar with a frown. 

"What?" 

_Shit_. Caspar shouldn’t have said anything. He meets Joe’s eyes briefly before looking away. 

"Never mind, it doesn’t really matter." 

"Wait, she thought we were dating?” Joe asks. He slides his legs off Caspar’s lap, planting his feet on the floor as he sits up. “Why does everyone think that?” He looks quickly at Caspar and narrows his eyes. “It’s because you flirt with me." 

"What? No, no I don’t. I mean, well, sometimes I do. As, like, a _joke_. But, I mean, most of the time I’m just being friendly.” Caspar can feel himself going bright red. “And what about you? You flirt with me too." 

"No I don’t." 

"Yes you do. What about that time you were drunk and you…" 

"Oh, it doesn’t mean anything if I’m _drunk_. You flirt with me all the time whilst _sober_." 

Caspar goes silent. Joe’s flirted with him a lot when he’s drunk. At one point, he’d told Caspar that he’s always wanted to kiss him, and then had _actually tried to kiss him_. It had taken all of Caspar’s willpower to push him away.

Sometimes, he wonders what would have happened if he'd let the kiss happen. He wonders how sloppy it would have been, and how soft Joe’s lips would have felt. And he wonders if it would’ve just been a quick kiss, a peck, or if he would’ve pulled Joe closer to him and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. And he wonders what would have happened afterwards, if they would’ve kept on kissing, or if Joe would’ve been disgusted, or if they would’ve pretended like it never happened. 

He doesn’t think it would’ve ended well, which is why he’s glad he pushed Joe away. But it kind of hurts to hear that Joe’s drunk flirting means nothing, because it’s all Caspar’s been thinking about for months. 

"If it was just _me_ then they wouldn’t think we’re dating. They’d…just think I have a crush on you or something,” Caspar points out, pushing those thoughts away. 

“I don’t think they put _that_ much thought into it, Caspar,” Joe snorts. 

“Whatever,” Caspar grumbles. There’s no point in arguing. Joe’s right. He _does_ flirt with him. But that’s because he’s head over heels in love with him. 

Joe goes quiet, nibbling his bottom lip before pinching it between his fingers. Caspar looks away. 

“Okay,” Joe begins slowly. “This isn’t, like, flirting or anything, but when that man was being all homophobic…I kinda wished you were there so I could…kiss you just to piss him off." 

"Okay,” Caspar says, feeling numb. 

Joe glances at him. 

“That’s not flirting,” he says again, for no apparent reason. 

“Okay." 

On the outside, Caspar’s face has gone blank and his body still. On the inside, Caspar is screaming. 

Joe runs his fingers through his hair, watching Caspar’s weird behaviour with concern. 

"Sorry,” Joe says. “Sorry if that’s weird. I wouldn’t have actually kissed you.”

“It’s not weird,” Caspar says immediately. “You can kiss me.” He falters when he realizes what he just said, looking at Joe awkwardly. “I mean, uh, like…I wouldn’t have minded if you did." 

"Okay,” Joe says. 

Caspar just nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. He feels stupid and his skin has gone all red and he needs to get away from Joe because everything about him is so intoxicating and he’s certain that if he stays there for even one more minute he will hold his hand or kiss his face or tell him that he loves him. 

So he stammers out some excuse and then leaves the room, feeling breathless and nauseas and like he’s seriously fucked.

......

Joe _does_ stay over that night. He sleeps in the guest room. And Caspar tosses and turns in his own bed before laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling and letting himself continue to imagine a life in which Joe is his boyfriend. 

Usually, thoughts like this help him take his mind off whatever is stressing him out. But it just makes things worse, considering Joe _is_ the one stressing him out. He pulls himself out of bed after a few moments, certain that he’s not going to get to sleep any time soon, and creeps down to the kitchen. 

“Joe?" 

It’s dark, but he can see Joe’s figure clearly in the kitchen. His friend is trying to reach one of the overhead shelves, and is failing miserably. He jumps and whips around at Caspar’s voice. 

"You scared me." 

"Sorry,” Caspar says, moving towards him. “What are you doing?" 

"I was hungry,” Joe says sheepishly. “I was just gonna snack on your cereal, but you keep it so high up.”

Caspar smiles despite himself. He moves even closer to Joe, so he’s standing right in front of him, before reaching up over him and grabbing the cereal from the top shelf, his whole body pressed against Joe. Joe is staring at him when he gets back down, and Caspar hands him the cereal, feeling breathless, feeling Joe everywhere, all over his own skin, despite the fact that he’s no longer touching him. 

“Here you go,” Caspar says, still holding out the cereal. 

“Thanks,” Joe says, but he doesn’t take it. 

A pause. They are staring at each other. Caspar reaches forwards and places the cereal on the counter behind Joe, shivering when their arms touch. 

“Why are you up?” Joe asks after a moment. He seems to be talking just for the sake of it. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Caspar replies. He can feel the space between them like it's a tangible thing. 

“Why not?" 

"I was thinking about you." 

It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. Joe swallows. They are so _so_ close. Caspar wants to touch him. He wants him so badly it’s like a physical weight on his chest, crushing his lungs. 

"What were you thinkingn…about me?” Joe asks carefully. 

Caspar doesn’t know how to reply. He doesn’t want to talk any more. He thinks he should go back to bed before he does something stupid. But he doesn’t, he can’t move. He wants to stay here, with Joe, standing just inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes, forever. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. 

Joe blinks. 

“What?" 

_What are you doing!?!?!_ Caspar screams at himself internally. _STOP!!!_

"Can I kiss you,” Caspar repeats. He’s begging. “Please. Just once." 

He expects Joe to laugh at him, to push him away in disgust. But Joe studies his face - his wide eyes glinting in the faint moonlight streaming in through the window, his expression unreadable but gentle- and he _nods._

Caspar’s breath gets caught in his throat, his chest tightening, heart racing. He feels like he’s going to explode, but he’s soft when he reaches out and slowly brushes the backs of his fingers along Joe’s cheek, down his jaw. He continues down Joe’s neck, and he shivers when Joe does. Joe’s skin is so cold, and Caspar’s so warm. He wants to touch him everywhere. 

"Well, go on then,” Joe says shakily, his voice rough. Something in Caspar feels alight when he sees that Joe looks as weak he feels. “Kiss me." 

And Caspar doesn’t hesitate. He cups Joe’s face, bending down the same time Joe reaches up, and they meet in the middle, their lips pressing together. 

Joe’s lips _are_ soft, as cold as the hands that snake their way into Caspar’s hair. He’s holding Caspar in place, letting him know that he’s okay with this, that he _likes_ this. 

Caspar continues to hold Joe’s face with one hand, his other hand gripping Joe’s waist, pulling him even closer, _closer_. He backs Joe into the kitchen counter gently, deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue into Joe’s mouth. It feels amazing, it feels better than he ever thought it would, but the best part is when Joe tugs on his hair and sighs. Caspar feels like as though he’s going to pass out. 

He pulls away from Joe’s mouth and kisses his forehead, the space between his brows where Caspar likes to poke him. He kisses his cheek, down along his jaw, his lips following the trail of skin that his fingers had followed only moments before. 

When he gets to Joe’s neck, Joe sighs, again, but this time he says Caspar’s name. Softly, so quietly Caspar hardly hears it, but he does. And Caspar is _sure_ he’s going to pass out now. It’s all too much for him, Joe’s body against his, his hands in his hair, his skin soft beneath Caspar’s lips. He can smell him, and the scent is so familiar and so _Joe_ that he wants to drown in it. 

"Don’t stop,” Joe breathes, and it’s only then that Caspar realizes that he’s frozen. He kisses the spot where Joe’s neck and shoulder meet, then sucks on the skin until Joe moans and he’s sure he’s left a bruise. He kisses the spot again, his whole body on fire, and then he pulls away. 

“I said don’t stop,” Joe says, lifting himself on his toes in an attempt to kiss Caspar again. It makes Caspar’s heart ache, that Joe is here, sober, trying to kiss _him_ , but his head is spinning and he feels like he can’t breathe, so he has to move away. 

“I just need to sit down or something,” Caspar says. But he’s still standing there, holding onto Joe, their foreheads pressed together. He takes a deep breath. It takes him a while to trust his legs to hold up him if he tries to a take a step, and when he does, he walks away slowly. 

He collapses on the couch. Joe follows him uncertainly, standing in front of him like he’s unsure as to whether he’s allowed to sit. 

“Are you okay?" 

"Yeah,” Caspar says. He breathes in, out, shakily, but it helps. “I just…think I’m a bit overwhelmed." 

"I thought maybe I had bad breath,” Joe says, and it’s a joke to make Caspar laugh. 

A smile stretches across Caspar’s lips, genuine and warm and one that is reserved only for Joe. 

“You do,” he teases. Joe’s eyes widen. 

“Oi!” he says, kicking Caspar’s leg gently. “Yours isn’t any better." 

Caspar laughs, and he feels lighter. His head feels clearer. It’s funny, he thinks, how Joe can be the reason that his body stops functioning and then the reason that it starts again. 

Joe helps him to his feet once he feels he’s completely caught his breath.

"So…” Joe begins. “Were you serious when you said you wanted to kiss me 'just once’?" 

"I’ve…uh…I’ve wanted to kiss you everyday since pretty much the day I met you,” Caspar admits. 

“Wait…really?" 

"Yeah." 

" _Shit_ , Caspar." 

"Yeah." 

"I had no idea,” Joe says. “Well…maybe I had _some_ idea. Because, I mean, you flirt with me and stuff. But I only really noticed that a month or so ago, when I started liking you…" 

"Wait what." 

"See this is why people think that we’re dating!” Joe continues, like Caspar hadn’t spoken, and like he hadn’t just admitted that he has feelings for Caspar. 

“You said you liked me,” Caspar says. Joe raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, obviously, buddy. I just kissed you." 

"Yeah but…do you _like_ like me." 

Joe looks at him like he’s not sure if Caspar is serious. Caspar is very serious. 

"Yes, Caspar, I _like_ like you. I just _kissed you_." 

"Okay,” Caspar says. He’s got a goofy grin on his face. “Good." 

They both seem to come to the sudden realization that they’re standing in the middle of Caspar’s living-room at quite possibly three am at the same time.

"We should probably go to bed,” Joe says. 

Caspar nods but he says, “Don’t you wanna know if I _like_ like you?" 

"Mmm, I’m pretty sure you do." 

Part of Caspar wants to say something like, "well, I don’t. I’m actually really fucking in love with you,” but a bigger part of him knows better than to say that, so he says, “You’re right." 

"Of course I am.” Joe grins at him, then he slips his hand into Caspar’s. “Come on.” He tugs Caspar out of the living-room. “Let’s go to bed.” 

He continues to pull Caspar down the hallway. But they go right past the guest bedroom, and straight to Caspar’s room. 

“You’re gonna sleep in my bed,” Caspar says dumbly. “With me." 

"Yeah. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” Joe jumps onto the bed with a laugh, burying under the covers. Caspar climbs onto the bed slowly. 

_Boyfriends._

“Yeah, it is,” he says, slipping under the covers. 

Joe moves over to him immediately, pressing a kiss to Caspar’s jaw, then to Caspar’s lips. They are short, sweet, like he knows that Caspar might still be too overwhelmed to do anything more. He opens up his arms, and Caspar curls up close to him, resting his head on Joe’s chest so he can hear the gentle thudding of his heart. And they wrap their arms around each other, and Caspar can’t believe that an hour ago he was lying here, alone, dreaming of calling Joe his boyfriend, of holding him tightly while they slept together, and now he is here, held tightly in Joe’s arms, no longer needing to dream about it. 

"So...you're gonna be my boyfriend?" Caspar doesn't really know why he says it, because Joe had more or less just confirmed that he's going to be Caspar's boyfriend no less than one minute ago. But he just wants to hear Joe say it. 

"Yeah. If that's alright with you. I mean we both _like_ like each other. So it makes sense, right?" 

Caspar laughs. 

"Right."


End file.
